


Everybody Doesn't Love a Clown

by TheonSugden



Category: Coronation Street
Genre: Drabbles, Gen, M/M, Tumblr Prompts, fear of clowns, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 17:19:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6763078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheonSugden/pseuds/TheonSugden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A visit to a children's ward brings back old fears for Sean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everybody Doesn't Love a Clown

**Author's Note:**

> Answering this prompt - Fear: Person A discovers a fear of Person B’s when they are suddenly confronted with that fear somehow. This could be anything from a minor fear to an outright phobia.

"Oh - I didn't know you did drag." 

Billy smiled affectionately at Sean, who'd taken a break from washing dishes when Billy popped home early from his duties. 

"Tried drag once, me - gave it up when somebody told me I looked like their gran who worked down the mines. Then again, maybe their gran looked like Kate Hudson. Hmm. S'pose I should've asked..."

As Billy emptied the small bag and stood in front of the bathroom mirror, Sean quickly realized it wasn't just lipstick or mascara. 

Billy finished pursing his lips - stopping to give Sean a small kiss - and explained.

"Emily texted me saying she likes to visit the children's ward at Weatherfield General around this time of year. They have a little show for the kiddies."

Sean furrowed his brows.

"You're going dressed like Emily? Well, I can see the resemblance." 

Billy furrowed his brows in response. 

"Ta - I think. No, I'm going to be a clown." 

If Sean had been holding the dish he'd barely finished drying, it probably would have smashed to the floor. 

He didn't like clowns. He had nightmares about them. As a boy, as a teenager, as a lad on the prowl, as the jaded jester who turned 29 5 years straight (the only straight thing about him, he'd joke), and finally, as the man who'd given up on love.

Blood red lips and deathly white skin, a tattered wig the color of a dying sun. Black, black eyes. Always in the room with him when he dreamt. Never talking, never touching, just...there. With him until death.

Lately, with Billy, with happiness and contentment, he hadn't had any more of those dreams. 

And yet, his nightmares would soon be a reality. 

He tried to laugh as Billy clutched his shoulder.

"The blood's drained from your face."

Sean wanted to move away, to hug his favorite pillow and feel safe, but he never felt safer than when he was with Billy. He didn't want to lose that. 

"It's nothing. Silly. You know me - silly old poof. Maybe I should make it into a T-shirt. Save a lotta time and trouble when I go into strops...or shops. Shops and strops. Now _that's_ a T-shirt..."  

The more he rambled, the more Billy's concerned eyes wore him down. The man must have been an expert inquisitor in some past life. Try keeping your secrets when warm soft brown is staring into your heart. 

"I've hurt you, Sean. I need to know why." 

Sean shook his head, kissing Billy's beautiful broken nose.

"You could never hurt me, pet. It's silly. I toldya." 

He looked over at the bag of makeup, eyes full of fear again.

"Is that it?" Billy asked. "Is it clowns?"

Sean waited for him to laugh, because that was the normal response. He remembered tugged his father's hand, callused from hard days grafting. 

"I asked me dad - well I thought he was me dad - not to take me to the funfair...and he told me it was our one chance to have fun. Told me he'd loved it when he was me age. I couldn't tell 'im..."

He scratched his forehead, chewed his lip, not looking Billy in the eye. 

"You can tell me." 

Sean shouted. 

"That's just...I can't! I don't know."

He hugged himself again, knowing he was babbling.

"I can tell ya I watched _It_ 'cos I fancied Tim Curry in _Clue_...I can tell ya when I went to America, me cousin loved Bozo and had a huge poster starin' down at us in her room...but there's no...there's no trauma. There's no 'reason.' It's just what I feel, Billy."

He turned his back on Billy, ashamed of his dramatics.

"It's just what I feel." 

Billy wrapped his arms around him, joining the hug, he rested his head on Sean's shoulder. 

"Of all people I think I know what it's like to believe in something and not needing a 'reason.'"

Sean scrunched up his nose. 

"So I should wear a collar with a big red nose round me neck." 

Billy chuckled softly, kissing Sean's neck.

"I'd pay to see you in that." 

Sean smiled.

"And nothing else?"

Billy raised his eyes.

"I'd hope I don't have to pay for that privilege."

Sean pulled away, reluctantly, heading for the bathroom. 

"I'm in high demand, cock."

He picked up the makeup bag, rifling through the contents.

"Right. Let's get to practice." 

Billy looked unsure.

"Sean - Eva told me she'd be happy to -" 

Sean rolled his eyes. 

"If ya wanna use a trowel, sure." 

Before he could pull out the lipstick, Billy clasped his hands. 

"If this upsets you or hurts you -"

Sean shook his head, quickly applying the lipstick to his own mouth.

"Nothing that helps you can ever hurt me, my love."

He kissed Billy's cheek, leaving a big red lip imprint as evidence. 

Billy looked at the imprint, and at Sean, in the mirror. 

"I'll never wash that cheek again," he teased, rewarding Sean with one more kiss. 

"You'd better not...Bozo Billy," Sean teased in return. 

 


End file.
